Thirst
by Fierceawakening
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THIRST. Megatron's an oblivious jerk for the whole episode, and things look horrid for Starscream. Possibilities for heartbreaking angst abound. Instead, I took it as a challenge: could Megatron's mindset make sense in any way at all? Could any fondness, however twisted, still exist between them? M for explicit sticky, sadomasochism, gore, and violence.


Sparks flew as Starscream skidded across the metal floor. For a long moment his inert frame lay where Megatron had thrown it. Energon dripped from the cuts Megatron's claws had gouged in his plating. He cycled air raggedly through damaged vents as he struggled to lift his head.

His claws bit into the metal of the floor, scoring shallow lines in it, sending up another small rain of sparks. They rose and fell like bright glitter, and Megatron stared down at it, pleased.

Starscream's claws were deadly weapons, capable of tearing through the thick armor plating covering a mech's chest and impaling the spark beneath. His feeble scratching now came nowhere close to his true strength.

But it showed that even after Megatron's massive hands had twisted and torn his frame until he'd nearly fallen offline, Starscream could still do damage.

Megatron smiled, his optics brightening as his faceplates twisted into a grin. He reached out, one massive claw grabbing at Starscream's back.

Neck cables straining, Starscream twisted his head to look back at Megatron. The rich red horn on his forehead had been snapped off at the base, and his once-smooth silver faceplates were dotted with scratches and blackened by dirt to a mottled, matte gray.

One optic was cracked and dark, the deep ruby color occasionally flickering with light as it struggled to function.

The other was wide, the white ring at its center expanded nearly to fill the socket. As Megatron watched, it narrowed, staring warily at Megatron. Then the ridges of metal over Starscream's optics, whole and shattered alike, curled downward in a display of obvious humility.

"Master -" Starscream sputtered, those elegant claws still twitching.

Hurting Starscream had felt good. Starscream's experiment with dark energon had stirred something deep within Megatron. He'd used dark energon himself long ago, taking it into his very spark. Now that spark pulsed with it, an ancient and violent hunger crackling through his systems as he stared at the wounds his hands had left.

And even without the dark energon, Megatron was built for war, his systems optimized for battle and eager for destruction. He hadn't seen the front lines in a long time, not with Shockwave cloning an army of beasts to fight his battles for him. His systems had begun to glitch, hot with the need to rend and tear and cleave.

He'd held it in. Starscream himself had taught Megatron the importance of cohesion in his ranks. Eager as he'd found himself to destroy something — anything — he'd had no reason.

Until Starscream's little project had cost him half his army.

Now his spark pulsed anew as he stared at Starscream's broken body, a fierce, warm pleasure crackling through his systems.

"Starscream," Megatron purred, lifting up his prize.

Starscream's chest plate was as dirty and scratched as his face. A pattern of parallel gouges ran down it where Megatron's claws had bitten deep. Energon oozed from the wounds, glowing bright blue against the dirt-smeared gray of Starscream's chest plate. Megatron watched it drip, mesmerized by its brightness.

"Is this what you wanted?" Megatron asked at last, his scarred mouthplates curling into a grin, the tips of his fangs gleaming.

"What I wanted?" Starscream stammered in a ruined voice. "Master - you - you think I _wanted_ this?"

"Come now, Starscream," Megatron answered. "Infusing a dead mech with dark energon? You saw me drive a shard of dark energon into my very spark. Surely you of all mechs should have known I would sense it."

"Master -" Starscream wheezed again. He lifted his head to look at Megatron. "I -"

Megatron flexed his free hand. Starscream's energon glistened on the tips of his claws. Starscream shuddered violently in his grasp and shook his head, but the gleam of his functional optic never left Megatron's clawtips. He cycled a heavy, rasping pant.

"You wanted my attention, Starscream," Megatron said. His optics flared molten-metal red. Then the light in them deepened, taking on a purplish cast - the hue of the dark energon singing through his systems. "You got it."

Starscream shrieked, twisting in Megatron's grasp. "Master - no! I never intended -"

"Never intended what? Your undead brute went on a rampage through my ship, killing my soldiers."

Megatron brought his energon-stained hand to Starscream's chest, letting his clawtips hover just above the wounds it had made. "And changing them, when they rose in turn."

Starscream shivered in his grasp, sending a new crackle of heat through Megatron's systems. "But Master - think of the dark energon inside your spark! It gives you power over the dead it raises!"

Megatron's claws curled inward, digging into the already open cuts. Energon flowed onto his claws, hot with the warmth of Starscream's frame. His captive thrashed violently, wailing in pain.

"You should have been able to control him!" Starscream shrieked. "You should have been able to control all of them!"

"And yet I could not," Megatron growled, stilling his fingers, their tips just pressing into the wounds. Starscream froze as well, fighting not to twitch.

He smiled. "Really, Starscream. You've tried raising the dead before. I thought you'd at least go for something more creative."

Tucked away under his interface paneling, his spike twitched. He leaned closer, eager for Starscream's response. They'd done this long enough that Megatron knew exactly what was coming. First Starscream would protest. Then he would plead. Then his optics would brighten, his mouth curling into a smirk as he purred some promise never to do it again and pressed against the very claws that had torn him apart.

Megatron chuckled, heat pooling in his interface panel as he stared greedily at Starscream's frame. He'd never been able to decide if he found it more beautiful pristine and polished, or if he liked it better covered with the marks his own hands had left.

But a voice very unlike the one he hoped for pulled him from his reverie.

"Megatron - no," Starscream was saying, his faceplates still twisted into a grimace.

Megatron scowled. That wasn't a coy invitation, or even a plea for the usual mercy.

Apparently this would take longer than he'd thought.

"Come now. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you trying to breed an army?" he began.

Starscream's undamaged optic widened, the white ring in its center expanding as it irised open. His mouth worked, twisting into a frown, then widening into an oval of shock, then curling into a snarling grimace.

But after so many centuries of war with Starscream at his side, Megatron knew his officer well enough to know the emotion distorting Starscream's faceplates wasn't fear.

It was rage.

Spindly claws shot out, heedless of their owner's wounds, slashing blindly at Megatron's arm. They bit deep into the plating of the warlord's wrist, striking with the speed and strength of desperation.

Megatron's claws clenched reflexively, the hand holding Starscream tightening its grip until Megatron felt metal dent beneath it. The claws of his other hand bit deep into Starscream's wounds, sending fresh gouts of energon spilling over them.

He had torn through the plating entirely, and could feel cables tear as his claws sliced through them. Beneath that lay Starscream's spark. He could feel its heat against the tips of his fingers, little coils of lightning darting from its roiling heat to ground themselves in his hands.

It would be so easy to drive his fingertips just a little deeper. To curl his hand around the Seeker's rebellious spark, tighten his grip around it, and -

_If I don't stop, I will kill him._

Dark energon sped through Megatron's circuits, awoken by the Terrorcon's birth and surging through him now with the same hunger that had driven Starscream's beast.

He didn't need the energon - he was no Terrorcon - but he knew their hunger well enough. It had been a part of him since the moment he'd taken dark energon into himself. He could feel it now, eager to crush the tiny frame he held, to wrench its limbs into twisted, lifeless metal, to tear it to bloodied, lifeless scrap.

But it wasn't just the dark energon singing through Megatron's veins that called for Starscream's death. Megatron had given Starscream a place at his right hand, second only to the warlord himself. From the beginning, Starscream had repaid Megatron with betrayal.

He had plotted against Megatron's life from the start, nearly killing him once before.

If anyone deserved death, it was his treacherous lieutenant. Beautiful as it was to watch those claws tear apart an enemy, thrilling as it was to feel that they still had not lost their strength - this dance had gone on for far too long already.

And as good as it might feel to claim him, to shove him down and tear his panel open and drive into his bleeding valve, Starscream wasn't responding. Not as he always did, pleading for forgiveness only to smirk with dark delight when Megatron gave it.

The only pleasure he would get from this would be the pleasure of Starscream's dissolution, the fierce joy of tearing into the slim body and cleaving what he found there.

And yet, if Megatron killed Starscream now, Starscream would die without ever confessing his sins.

His faceplates twisting into a grimace, Megatron forced his hand to stillness again.

Starscream vented air shallowly, his injured wings twitching. His good optic stared at Megatron for a long moment, wide and accusing. Then it narrowed, shifting side to side as Starscream's mouthplates twisted into a calculating snarl.

The grip on Megatron's wrist tightened, and Megatron felt Starscream's claws pierce metal anew, twisting to find the gaps in the joints and dig in. Megatron grimaced, showing fangs, as a bright shock of pain lanced through his systems.

Fighting the siren call of the dark energon, Megatron waited.

Starscream stared. His injured optic flickered rapidly, struggling futilely to focus. His injured wings twitched, making him snarl in renewed pain.

His other arm moved, slicing at air just in front of Megatron. When Megatron remained motionless, he laughed - a mad, fey trill of desperation - and tried again, the tips of his claw just catching at the thick plating of Megatron's chest. Sparks flew from the point of impact, but they left no more than shallow scratches in the metal.

Their sting lit Megatron's sensornet, an effervescent burst of bright heat that only fed the twin hungers warring in his spark. He felt his spike thud against its housing, fully pressurized now and impatient to be freed.

_I will not harm you, Starscream,_he thought. _Not until you tell me what is happening here._

Starscream's engines sputtered. He cycled air in a choked cough. His head moved, feebly, but he did not meet Megatron's gaze.

Then words came, spat out of Starscream's crushed vocalizer in a staticky burst, as though he had to purge them all at once.

"Master," he hissed, the bitterness in his ruined voice transforming the word into a curse. "Don't you understand that I did all of this _for you_?"

Megatron's claw withdrew before he knew he had moved it.

Starscream's torso was a mass of torn metal and twisted cabling. The blue glow of his own energon covered the silver chestplate almost completely, and the Decepticon insignia branded in its center had been all but obliterated by Megatron's rending claws.

"Explain yourself," Megatron rumbled.

"You said yourself - you felt the Terrorcon awaken -" Starscream wheezed, his head lolling.

"Of course I did," Megatron returned. "The dark energon within me stirred when it came to life."

"Then - tell me, Lord Megatron -" Starscream panted, some of the old sly smugness creeping into his broken voice. "Why would I plot against you - using a creature I knew you would sense?"

Megatron's optics widened. _Why indeed?_Starscream's schemes weren't always the wisest, but he was no fool. He would never have lasted as long as he had if his plans had been so obviously flawed.

His optics flared molten-metal red. "An interesting point. But how can you say you did all of this for me when I lost half my army to your beast's rampage?"

He snarled, his anger returning. "You contaminated the dark energon you fed it, and neither it nor the others it spawned heeded me."

"Contaminated?" Starscream squeaked. "_Contaminated?_ Is that what you -"

"You say you did this for me, Starscream," Megatron answered, his frame rumbling.

"Yes -"

"And yet you changed the energon formula you gave your little minions _just enough_ to break my control."

"No."

Starscream raised his head, fixing his optic on Megatron. It brightened, its outside molten-metal red, its center piercing white. Its partner flared brightly with light, sparks arcing from it like tiny stars.

Megatron waited. Starscream cycled air raggedly and hissed, his broken body making a chorus of reproachful sounds. At last, he spoke again.

"The synthetic energon we added was supposed to fuel its rage, not -"

"Break my hold over it," Megatron finished, his frame rumbling.

Starscream nodded, suddenly and eerily silent.

Megatron had to admit that the explanation made sense. Fueled by synthetic energon, even civilian mechs became killing machines. Their enemies' medic had tested it on himself - and promptly left the safety of his base to tear a swath of destruction through the Decepticon ranks. Only Megatron himself had been able to stop him.

A Decepticon fueled by such a substance would be powerful indeed - provided one had the means to guide its aggressive impulses. And Megatron had power over mechs raised from the dead by dark energon. Perhaps Starscream had thought that an infusion of the stuff would serve as the very reins Megatron needed to control a synth-en fueled soldier.

If so, it was a clever plan. One Megatron would never have authorized, not when his science officer was already cloning an army of massive beasts that would serve the same purpose better anyway. But clever and impressive nonetheless.

But was Starscream telling the truth, or simply covering up his latest attempt to take over the ship and supplant Megatron as leader of the Decepticons? Starscream's silver tongue had always dripped lies.

Megatron set him down more gently than he deserved. Starscream's wings twitched at the oddly tender gesture, an involuntary response that usually meant pleasure. Megatron's cooling fans kicked on in answer, as though some part of him still expected passion.

But Starscream was wincing now, the damaged plating of his legs raw and tender from Megatron clawing at them and tossing him around, his wings still stinging as he moved them.

He slid his arm free from Megatron's wrist, staring at the energon dripping from the cuts he'd left there. He paused a long moment, his claw hovering in indecision. Then he pulled away, snarling at Megatron. Or at himself.

"Master," he murmured, peering sidelong up at Megatron.

"You said you did this for me," Megatron prompted.

For a long moment, Starscream said nothing. Then the words came pouring out, like a gout of energon spurting from one of his many wounds.

"You haven't so much as looked at me since that toadying scientist returned! All I ever hear - is his name."

Starscream's good optic glowed red with rage. Its partner brightened and dimmed in time with Starscream's ventilations.

"All I ever see is you - praising his progress -" Starscream spat. He opened his mouth to say more, but his voice died in a spasm of choked ventilations.

He cycled air noisily for a long moment and spoke again, his voice a seething whisper. "And petting the beast he cloned for you - as though it were your pet."

"So that's what this is about." Megatron chuckled, his scarred mouthplates drawing back in a broad, fanged grin. "Me favoring Shockwave over you."

"Of course it is!" Starscream snapped, weariness and pain making him reckless.

"So with Shockwave busy cloning an army of beasts, you fed synthetic energon to Cylas to make a warrior of him - and dark energon to make him mine."

"You wanted soldiers, Megatron. I set out to make one for you." He grinned slyly up at Megatron. Perhaps he only meant to charm him - or perhaps his confidence had finally returned.

Megatron laughed. "So you did want my attention after all."

Starscream's expression instantly soured again. "You haven't touched me once since Shockwave's experiments began."

He swept a claw in front of his broken chest plate and twitched his mangled wings. "Unless you mean to tell me that _this_ is all you have left for me."

"No, Starscream," Megatron answered, his pointed grin widening. "This was only the beginning."

His spark pulsing with warm heat, he reached down, wrapping a claw around one of Starscream's wings.

The wing stilled in his grasp automatically, immediately responding to the heavy weight of Megatron's hand on it. But as before, Megatron was gentle now, tightening his grip just enough to make his presence felt.

He heard a soft whir of moving air. For a moment, he thought perhaps he'd squeezed the wing in his hand too hard, making Starscream's ventilation hitch in pain. Then, with a sudden surge of heat flaring through his systems, he realized that Starscream's cooling fans had kicked on at last, just as they always had so many times before.

He opened his hand slowly. Starscream's wing shuddered in response. He heard a whimper as it moved against his palm, a soft mewling cry that sounded almost pained.

Snickering, he ran the tips of his claws over the wing's edge, forcing his touch to lightness even as the dark energon coursing through his circuits made him twitch with the urge to rip the fragile metal under them to lifeless scrap.

"Master -" Starscream whined.

Megatron moved again, sliding the tips of his claws over the surface of the wing. He knew Starscream well enough to know that his savagery just before, however cruel it might have been, would leave it sensitized now to the slightest touch.

"Megatron, please -" Starscream panted as the warlord reached out with his other hand. As Megatron's claws caught Starscream's other wing, Starscream's hips jerked forward in an obscene display.

Or in a confession of desperation.

Under any other circumstance, Megatron would have ordered Starscream to open the cover to his valve. Under any other circumstance, Starscream would have waited for the command - unless he intended his disobedience to meet with the consequences it earned.

Now the plate hiding his panel slid aside unbidden. The cover of his valve retracted suddenly and obscenely, the open valve already dripping silvery lubricant.

Megatron said nothing, his own cover sliding aside, his spike springing free at the sight of Starscream so brazenly exposing himself.

Static flickered in front of his optics, and he almost grabbed at Starscream right then and there, heedless of anything but their mutual desire.

"Master -" Starscream gasped, reaching for him.

"No," he heard himself say, his rasping voice stern. He swept the grasping claws away in one smooth motion, eliciting a startled squawk from his partner.

"Master - ?"

"This is still a reminder of your place."

Starscream hissed, his claws flexing in irritation. Then, after a long moment, he nodded.

"Down," Megatron ordered. "On the floor. On your hands and knees."

Starscream wasted no time, sliding to the floor as gracefully as his injuries would allow, presenting his open valve to Megatron with one last sly look over his shoulder.

Energon still dripped from his wounds, forming a glowing blue pool beneath him. Heat surged through Megatron's spark at the sight and static crackled before his optics.

But as much as he liked the sight of Starscream bleeding, he would have to make this quick. As accustomed as Starscream was to rough treatment - and as much as both he and Megatron enjoyed it, under the proper circumstances - even he had his limits.

Megatron stepped into position behind him, giving the slender hips and aft one last lingering caress before lining his spike up with the opening to the dripping valve.

The opening was small; relative to Megatron's bulk, Starscream was a tiny mech, all slender angles and sharp curves. Their bodies had always been disproportionate, even here. Megatron's massive spike could barely fit inside the slender valve - at least until it irised open, driven by its owner's endless hunger to be filled.

And now the mismatch would only be all the more extreme. Starscream was right. It had been a long time.

But apparently that didn't matter to Starscream. Feeling the tip of Megatron's bludgeon against the rim of his valve, his hips twitched in invitation.

That was all the encouragement Megatron needed. He drove into the waiting valve with one forceful thrust.

Starscream shrieked, throwing back his head, a high cry that faded into a staticky gasp.

Megatron knew why. He could feel the thin walls of Starscream's valve dent, struggling and failing to shift around their invader.

Still, the tight heat was irresistible, and knowing he had left his mark on Starscream both inside and out only fed his lust. His grip on Starscream's hips tightened, claws biting deep into the metal, as he drove in all the harder.

Starscream's valve gripped him so tightly that every sensor in his spike flared to bright, searing life. The friction burned him just as his movement tore at Starscream's valve, and he roared with the intensity of it.

Starscream slammed himself back on his spike with a strength Megatron didn't think he had left in him. His spindly claws scrabbled over the floor. As before, they raised a shower of glittering sparks.

Megatron watched them, mesmerized. He'd forgotten just how much he'd missed this.

With a wild, rumbling laugh, he drove in again, speeding up as he felt Starscream's valve iris open, lubricant and fresh energon gushing out of his valve as Megatron moved. Starscream struggled to match his rhythm, shoving his tiny body over Megatron's spike as though he wanted it to tear him asunder.

_Very well_, Megatron thought, tightening his grip on Starscream's hips and freezing them in place. He drew back agonizingly slowly, the movement stimulating every sensor in his spike anew. His spark pulsed, his vision blanking again. He gritted his fangs, fighting the sensation threatening to overwhelm him as he felt Starscream shudder and heard a long, shaky moan that sounded like his own name.

Then he drove in again, the movement setting every part of him aflame as he pressed deep, as deep as he dared, his hands pushing Starscream bodily over him just so that he could press in further, leaving no part of Starscream's battered frame untouched.

Starscream cycled a choked ventilation. His good optic widened, the white at the center of it growing until it filled the socket. He opened his mouthplates painfully wide, as though to cry out.

No sound came, the vocalizer ruined at last.

But Megatron felt Starscream's overload no less forcefully for that. The valve around him spasmed hard, contracting impossibly tight, and Megatron could not have resisted that even if he'd wanted to. For a moment he froze, his systems locking up. Then his fluid burst free in a long, shuddering gush, flooding the valve his spike had torn.


End file.
